Chapter 5: New Beginnings
"Well, it's a bit small, but I suppose I could put a few expansion charms here and there, make some of the storage spaces bigger," Wisteria Hunch mused as she looked at the place we had chosen for my new living spot.
It wasn't a fancy place. In fact, there were stains in the corner, a smidge of mold on the ceiling, and the old, threadbare carpet had been poorly laid so it bunched up in odd places. But it was a cheap apartment unit close enough to a decent school, and that was what mattered the most to our family right now. Well, it mattered to mother. I didn't particularly care, and Rudy was still avoiding me like the plague.
Anyways, the apartment building had one and a half bedrooms (one master, one room that could hold another bed or be something), one bathroom, a very small kitchenette, a few closets, and no living room. It was on the first floor, and had bars over the windows, which was a bit concerning. The apartment complex itself was squished right in between London's cityscape and its outskirts, where Urban sprawl spilled out into the suburbs.
The town's name was Bendcroft. It also happened to be in Berkshire County, west of London. Which was next door to Surrey County. And you know what else was nearby, a mere mile or so away from the apartment complex? Little Whinging, the town where Harry Potter lived!
That was apparently one of the other reasons Wisteria had wanted to purchase the apartment out here. Arabella Figg, a fellow Squib, lived nearby, and it seemed like Archibald knew of the old cat-loving lady as well and considered her a decent enough woman. I'd not met her, but Archibald assured me Mrs. Figg would look out for me if I was in the area.
'Squibs gotta Squib together, I suppose,' I thought to myself, trying to keep the jitters down as I looked around the apartment some more. Knowing I was so close to the Boy Who Lived was nerve-wracking, but it also seemed like no one else was aware, which fit with what I knew. Old Lady Figg only knew because Dumbledore asked her to spy on him.
'And that raises some questions of my own. Did she move in nearby to do the spying, or was it luck that a Squib had already been living at Privet Drive when it was time for Harry to go there?' I mused to myself, tuning out mother talking to herself about sprucing the place up. If she wanted to liven up the place, she was free to do so. I had no skill in home décor. All I'd needed in my last life was a bed, a desk, a comfy swivel chair, and a laptop to survive on my own. Everything else had been optional.
"What do you think, Edward?"
"Huh? Oh, sure, go ahead, whatever you think is fine," I mumbled, waving a hand nonchalantly.
'Ooo! This area could make a good lab for when I start my experiments!' I thought eagerly as I peered into a wide, walk-in closet in the master bedroom.
"Hmm, alright then," mother hummed, and I had suspicions she knew I hadn't been listening. Still, she clapped her hands and called out for Inky, and the House Elf appeared with a crackle-pop.
"Inky, be a dear and give this place a quick cleaning before you start moving all of Edward's things in here," she instructed.
"Yes, mistress," the elderly House Elf said, bowing and vanishing with another pop.
"Come, Edward, let's leave Inky to his work," Wisteria said. "We are going to visit Mrs. Arabella Figg at a restaurant near here."
"Sure, mom," I agreed, and we left the apartment in Inky's capable – if creepy – little hands.
We left the building and headed to the meet up with Mrs. Figg. We got to the restaurant ten minutes later, and went inside.
Upon seeing her, I had to hide a frown. She resembled the actress that had played her in the movies back on my world, at least superficially. Her hair was greyer (though still wrapped up under that odd, transparent bonnet) and she wore a leopard print shawl over her greyish-white blouse and skirt.
'I guess it isn't just magicals that have a terrible sense of fashion,' I thought, hiding a grimace at the sight of what she was wearing.
A faint odor of cat and cabbage linger on her, which, given she had at least four half-kneazles in her home, along with who knows how many house cats, made sense. Except the cabbage part. I vaguely recalled that being a thing from the books as well.
"Mrs. Hunch?" Mrs. Figg inquired when we approached the table she was sitting at.
"Yes, hello, Mrs. Figg," Wisteria Hunch replied. She then nudged me with her elbow. "Say hello, Edward."
"Hello, Mrs. Figg," I greeted politely. "I'm Edward Rose."
"Rose? Oh, yes, that's right, Archie said you'd changed your last name," Mrs. Figg hummed. "Please, sit, I've order tea. Earl Grey alright with you?"
"Yes, that's wonderful, thank you," my mother said with a grateful nod. We both sat down, and Mrs. Figg looked us over, eyeing our clothing.
"You're dressed better than I expected," she said after a moment. "Most witches and wizards don't realize how important it is to stay under the radar when out and about, and wearing robes and outlandish garb doesn't do that."
"It was mostly thanks to Mr. Tarsworth and Edward here. My boy saw how Muggles dressed when visiting London and helped me out," mother admitted. "I've had a couple days to get used to this new style, due to having to sign paperwork for the apartment and school."
"Hmm. You're attending Woolingsby, correct?" Mrs. Figg inquired of me, and I nodded.
"Yes, Mrs. It's close to the apartment, and is supposed to be decent," I replied.
"Good. If you ever have any problems, or need help, you can contact me," she said. She took out a pen from a purse, and wrote down a phone number.
Mother took it, a bit perplexed by what it was, and Mrs. Figg seemed to notice if the amusement in her eyes was a clue.
"Just give that to Archie. He'll know what to do with it," she assured my mother, who nodded slowly and tucked the note away.
The next hour was little more than a bunch of chatting and boring conversation. It was mostly between my mother and Mrs. Figg, though I had to chime in a few times when the old cat lady probed me with seemingly innocent questions, but once I looked back at them, realized they were a lot more pointed than I'd first expected.
'Asking about how I felt about Pureblood nonsense and the Boy-Who-Lived? She was trying to figure out if I'm a plant or spy for the Death Eaters,' I thought as Wisteria Hunch and I walked back to the apartment. 'I wonder if Dumbledore told her what to ask, or if he even knows I exist? Hope it's the latter, I could do without that senile meddler.'
Say what you want about Dumbledore, but I disliked him. It wasn't because he was evil – in fact, without meeting the man, I couldn't know for sure one way or another, but I didn't want to imagine him being a pseudo-Dark Lord like some fanfics portrayed him, but even if he wasn't intentionally cruel to Harry Potter, he was, at best, blind and misguided due to years of being in the know.
He left Harry Potter with his aunt and uncle, folks who were known to hate magic and their own relatives. He never bothered to check in on him at any point to make sure the wards worked, or that the Dursley family was taking care of him.
And either Mrs. Figg, his spy, sucked at her job of reporting what was going on, or just as likely, Dumbledore just ignored her whenever she informed her boss that the Dursleys were terrible people. After all, she was just a Squib. He obviously knew better!
No, Dumbledore was at best an obstacle, a threat at worst.
A twinge of pity for the currently six-year-old boy flickered through my chest, but I stamped it down. I didn't need more problems on my plate!
"Oh, Inky, you've done a wonderful job!" mother exclaimed as we went into the apartment, and I blinked in surprise as I saw that, indeed, everything had gotten better compared to when we last saw it.
The walls had been repainted (a nice, plain eggshell white), the rug properly laid out and cleaned. There was a lot of different items of furniture that hadn't been there before, such as a table and chair set for the dining-cum-living room, a green sofa that looked ancient but comfy, and a cabinet full of plates and cooking utensils next to the kitchenette.
A peek into the master bedroom revealed a lovely queen-sized bed with a mahogany frame, the headboard carved with dragons and unicorns. A nightstand with a Muggle (that is to say, powered by electricity) lamp was set up beside the bed, while at the foot of the bed, a big, wooden chest sat.
"Wow, this place looks amazing!" I gushed. Then, I frowned, as a question occurred to me. "Inky, where did you get all this furniture?"
"This was all stuff we had in the attic or basement or one of the other unused rooms from the house," Wisteria explained as the House Elf appeared next to her, grinning at our praise.
"Yes! Mistress Hunch said I could, so I did," Inky said proudly.
"Huh. I guess that makes sense," I mused. Now that they mentioned it, I did recognize some of the items as having come from a few rooms I'd explored while younger.
'I forgot how much stuff old magical families end up hording,' I thought to myself. Clutter accumulated quickly, even in relatively small and poor family like mine and the Weasleys. Especially when storing stuff that wasn't money in Gringotts was too expensive for anyone not obscenely rich.
"So, do you want to stay the night here?" mother asked, and I glanced at her. I bit my lip, thinking it over.
"Yes, I do," I said after a moment. "That doesn't mean I don't want to have dinner with you, though."
"Of course," she said with a watery smile. "Just call for Inky when you're ready to pop in for dinner tonight, okay? And don't forget, I'll be dropping you off at school on your first day."
"Okay, mom. I'll see you then," I promised with a smile.
She nodded, and grabbed Inky's gnarled old hand. The two vanished in a pop, leaving me alone.
For a couple seconds, I enjoyed the silence. Then, I went back into the master bedroom, and went to the bed. I checked under the pillows, and smirked as I saw what lay beneath it. A familiar old sack I'd last seen in the bushes underneath my window back at Lumpkins' Patch.
"Oh, Inky, you know just how to make a boy smile," I said under my breathe.
I couldn't help but grin happily as I opened up my emergency escape sack and took out a few items. Money, both Muggle and Magical. Clothing, in both styles. And last but not least a tiny vial half full of something that was the source of my newfound freedom.
The liquid wasn't clear, but it was sufficiently opaque that it'd go unnoticed in most liquids. It had a slightly strong smell, but alcohol neatly covered it up.
It was, simply, a heart attack in a bottle. Just add to a drink and boom! Dead almost instantly. It helped if the person already had a strong inclination towards strokes and heart attacks already. Wizards rarely got 'em, thanks to magic being a useful buffer against mundane ailments and afflictions, but it was entirely possible to have a stroke if you drank too much alcohol and didn't live a calm, stress-free life.
Aurors and medi-witches wouldn't be able to locate this with a simple wave of the wand, either, because spells designed to check for poisons or drugs only checked for magical ones. And diagnostic spells always searched for what the spells knew to be toxins. Since this was a Muggle concoction made from mundane chemicals, their precious magic couldn't recognize the substance, and thus, ignored it. This was how Inky and I got away Scott free with poisoning the man I was ashamed to be related to.
Of course, acquiring the stuff hadn't been easy. I'd had to rely on quite a few chemistry lessons and textbooks I'd dug up from the depths of my memory courtesy of my Occlumency training, and making it out of household materials and other things I'd discreetly bought from the local Muggle pharmacy in Ottery St. Catchpole had been tiresome. Still, I'd learned a lot about making potions during my experiments, and a smidge about the more complex subject of alchemy.
'I don't need it anymore,' I thought, holding up the mostly empty vial. I went into the bathroom and dumped the last of the drug down the sink, and washed the container out thoroughly. It had served its use, and watching it gurgle down the drain filled me with a sense of relief, like a weight was lifting off my shoulders.
'Next trial comes up September 1st!' I thought to myself. 'Back to school in a whole new world.'
I shuddered at that thought. Just thinking about it was making me all depressed. Instead, I decided to focus on something else, so I got onto the bed and began to practice my somewhat rusty Occlumency skills. I had a couple hours to burn before dinner, and I wanted to make sure I could remember several things with complete clarity for the coming months. School would not defeat me!